The Play's the Thing
by Lovely Zelda
Summary: A delightful afternoon at The Theatre.


**Disclaimer**: If you think I own any of these characters, close the window and go to your local library.

**Rating**: PG for language, drunken theater going, and arsing up Shakespeare.

**Other**: I spent more time wondering whether or not there were peanuts in Elizabethan England than actually writing this fic.(You're free to stop reading now, because I think that's what I would do)  After much fact checking and private musings, I decided that we know so little about the Elizabethan stage anyway and "Zelda + Historical Period =Oh, God, why?!"  As for the Elizabethan dress, you're on your own, but I'd like to think that there's at least one obscenely massive codpiece involved. 

               "Wait a few minutes, you stupid bastard!" screamed a dark haired groundling.

               "She's not dead yet!" added the blond beside him.

               "You can see her breathing!"

               Romeo, who, like the rest of the cast, was ready to strangle the two drunks in the center of the pit, took a deep, calming breath.  Several peanuts hit Juliet in the face.  "Wake up!" was shouted from the pit.

               "My belovèd Juliet is very much dead," Romeo said through clenched teeth.  "Death hath sucked the honey from her breath, she is not breathing, and I am going to stay with her and never from this pallet of dim night—"

               "You humans are too blessed impatient!"

               Romeo thought about jumping down and throttling them, but that was how Richard III had nearly broken his leg.  "The powers of Heaven and Hell couldn't stop me from drinking this potion."

               They glared at him.  "Is that so?" shouted the dark haired one.

               "I think you might want to rephrase that, my dear," said the other one.

               Romeo was about to continue with his death speech when he found himself tossing the vial over his shoulder.  "Here's to my love," he said, looking fearfully at the wings.  He was never going to work in this town again, but that was only because Will was going to kill him.

               Friar Lawrence and Balthasar stared at him as they started their scene.  After they'd finished, a wide eyed Friar nervously entered the tomb.  "Romeo!  O...er, not pale at all, I see…"

               "No," said Romeo.  "Paris is dead though."

               "Yes...steeped in blood and everything.  Certainly an unkind hour…er, the lady stirs."

               Juliet sat up.  "O comfortable friar," she said. "Where is my lord?"

               "I'm here," said Romeo.  

               "I'm going to leave now," said Friar Lawrence.  Romeo and Juliet glared at him.  

               "What's here?  A cup, closed in my…on the ground, actually," said Juliet.

               "Yes, I seem to have decided not to poison myself after all," said Romeo.

               "Dr—spilled all and left no…friendly drop to help me after," Juliet continued.  "Although I don't suppose I need it…"

               "Kiss her!"

               Romeo and Juliet looked at each other.  "I won't be needing your happy dagger then," said Juliet.

               "Yes, you will!"  There was giggling from the pit.

               A cluster of very confused and slightly terrified Capulets, Montagues, and others entered.  "Our children appear to be very much alive," said Lord Capulet.

               "Yes," said Lord Montague.  "It's a shame my son's exile caused my wife to die of grief."

               There was a long, uncomfortable silence.  "Perhaps Friar Lawrence can explain what hath transpired?"

Juliet suggested nastily.

               "Yes, er, right.  Romeo, there…not dead, was married to that Juliet," said Friar Lawrence.  "And she, also…not dead…was his faithful wife.  I married them and…gave her a sleeping potion, and events happened that would have stopped me from getting here in time, but apparently I did and everything's all right now."

               "Let's build some statues and never fight again," suggested Lord Montague.

               "That's an excellent idea," said Lord Capulet. "Paris is dead, so it's not like my daughter can marry him anymore."

               "I'm already married," said Juliet.

               "Yes, and we're all very happy.  Perhaps we'll find out some more people are not dead…"

               The cast turned to the Prince, most of them mouthing a combination of curse words and a plea to wrap things

up.  "A glooming—er, glorious peace this morning with it brings," said the Prince.  "The sun for…never mind.  Go hence, let's build some statues and…everyone is pardoned—"

               "Except Friar Lawrence!  He's a bastard!" shouted the dark haired drunk.

               "Except Friar Lawrence," said the Prince.  "And we'll all have a drink and pretend this never happened…For never was there a story of mo—less woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

               The cast bowed and quickly ran off stage.  "Will's going to have my balls," muttered Juliet.

               "He's going to have all our balls," said Lord Capulet.  "But cheer up, if he does, you'll be able to keep playing the same parts."

               "That makes me feel much better."

*             *             *

               "I don't see why they got so upset," Crowley said over more drinks.  "If I wanted to sit still and not say anything while people walked around and said things, I'd…well, the point is, you're supposed to shout at them.  The peanuts were a bit much though…"

               "You shouldn't have given them to me," said Aziraphale.

               "I didn't think you'd throw them…but shouting's all right.  They like it."

               "Do you know what I like?" Aziraphale asked.

               "What?"

               "Happy endings."  

               "Me too.  What should we see tomorrow?"


End file.
